Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Smile at a special needs mom

On vacation in Vermont, Dave and I booked a dinner at a nice restaurant. Sabrina was going to a camp sleepover, so it would be just us and Max. I was looking forward to a special night with him.

Max whimpered as we walked into the restaurant. We were the only people there; it's easier to settle Max into places when it's quiet, so I always get an early reservation. But Max wasn't comfortable. He refused to sit down at the table. He gestured outside and looked at Dave, and I knew what he was asking: He wanted to take another ride on the resort's shuttle bus, one of his favorite activities.

"OK, how about you take him for a few laps on the bus, and I'll order appetizers," I told Dave. Life is constant triage, minor and major, when you're raising a kid with special needs.

So off Dave and Max went. I ordered the cheese, roasted garlic and chutney plate. When it arrived a few minutes later, I tried not to nibble. But I took a teensy bit. And then another bit. Mouse bites.

I checked email on my iPhone.

I snapped artistic photos of the cheese platter. I ordered a glass of wine.

Twenty minutes went by.

"Would you like to order the rest of your meal?" the server asked. I got mac 'n cheese for Max and an entree for Dave.

The time dragged on. I stared out the window morosely, thinking that by now I should know better than to build up expectations about outings, especially restaurant ones. I glanced at other families around us. Nearby, two parents sat with a little girl and a baby. The girl was coloring, the baby played happily with toys, the parents laughed over their wine. For a moment, I ached to be that family.

The waitress came back. "I'm sorry, I can't hold your food anymore," she said. I said she could bring it out.

I stared out the window some more. I stared at that family some more. Finally, Dave walked in with a sobbing Max. "What happened?" I asked. "He didn't want to get off the bus," Dave answered. I left it at that and focused on Max.

"Max, look, we have macaroni and cheese," I said, hugging him and trying to calm him down. He wailed. People turned to look. Max tried to run out of the restaurant.

Dave whipped out his iPhone and found Cars 2 clips on YouTube. Max tried the mac 'n cheese and liked it. He was OK. Me, not so much. I sat there, rattled and quiet and sad.Why does it always have to be so hard? I thought.

And then, that mom at the other table caught my eye. She smiled at me.

"You OK?" she mouthed.

"Yes," I mouthed back, and smiled, too.

A lot of times in situations like this, people glare at us. They don't know Max has special needs and think he's just acting up. Once, an older guy at another table said, "Get that brat out of here." I think I speak for many moms of kids with special needs when I say we don't want pity; it's isolating. But a smile or words that say hey, motherhood is tough—any kind of motherhood is tough—are reassuring.

This mom's empathy was the comfort food I needed.

Just like that, I felt better. Dave and I enjoyed our dinner. Max polished off the mac 'n cheese and had chocolate cake for dessert. And, wouldn't you know it, he asked to return to the restaurant another night.

30 comments:

I work with people with special needs. One night I was mall walking with a young lady. She got anxious, and I got put in a headlock. I'm basically walking w her in the headlock bc we don't use restraint techniques so I was waiting for it to pass, which I knew it would. This older lady, who must have had experience, didn't ask if she could help, but simply gave me an empathetic smaile and walked a way. It totally calmed me down, and a few seconds later I was free.

This brought back memories and made my tear up. I know how much difference a kind smile can make rather than a glare. I am so happy that someone took the time to smile and ask if you were okay. I am also glad that Max ended up having a good time. (Hugs)

I teared up too. Being a parent has generally made me a more sympathetic person. You and so many other bloggers who talk about their special needs children have opened my eyes to so many things, and make me want to try even harder to lend a hand or a smile to any mom who needs it.

It's the little things that people do that make the biggest difference. I just love what that mom did it was such a simple yet beautiful act of kindness. A while ago somebody came up to me in a shopping mall and said you look so pretty today to this day I haven't forgotten that I don't know why those words from a stranger meant so much to me all I know is that it did.

Great post and (of course) I can relate..I feel like I can always relate to your posts, which makes me feel so much better you have no idea (or, I guess, you probably do!). Thank you for saying the things that I can't!

This made me all teary, too! I love what that mom gave to you just when you needed it! I wish things like these would happen more often. These acts of kindness will forever be in our hearts and never forgotten!

What a lovely story...and a great reminder how something so small as a smile can really brighten a tough day. We special needs moms have special radar (one of OUR superpowers...the kids don't get to have all the fun!) for spotting other special needs moms, so let's all get out and encourage each other.

Wow, this really struck an emotional chord in me. Great post Ellen. I relate so much. I've had the same kind of moments in restaurants...watching others and wondering why life has to be so hard for us at times. Feeling alone, isolated. What a lovely moment from a stranger. :)

My beautiful, fantastic, loving grandchild is a special needs little boy, and because of him I realize that all is not what it seems. People just think your child is being bad. When I see this I pray for the situation and a little gesture, such as a smile can mean so much, like someone had said. You parents of these special children are just that, "Special".

I've been there, and will be there again! I dislike the uncertainty and stress of taking my son to a restaurant but I can't shelter him forever if we ever want to attend weddings, bday dinners, special brunches. I have walked out on untouched meals, paid and left, because my son is uncomfortable. Sometimes I think I give strangers too much consideration, I worry about them enjoying their meals and forget I'm a paying customer too. I glad you got through your meal, it gives me hope!

This sums up a typical event in the day life of a special needs family. We never know how it is going to be but we just roll with it. We just keep right on going..... hoping that people continue to open their minds and hearts. And contiue to develope some level of understanding and kindness You summed it up beautifully.

Hi. First-time visitor of your blog, via Pinterest. Also a special needs mom -- to 3; we don't suspect #4 is... yet. Your story brought tears to my eyes, as it sounds like it did for so many other readers. Kindness, compassion, and non-judging is so often needed, and not often enough found. I'm so glad it was there for you when you really needed it.

The difficulty of eating out in restaurants with our daughter prevents us from doing it as often as we'd like, but we continue to try...some experiences are great and she's happy and "well behaved" and doesn't cause anyone to turn their head or a sharp eye...other times I'm trying to hurry out of the restaurant; stressed and upset that something so simple can turn into such a fiasco. BUT I've gotten much better with my expectations and planning. We try to avoid it when it's super busy and the wait is long. We only eat at places where something she'll really enjoy is on the menu. (Not the time to be trying something new.) And her loud whoops and hollers of happiness I no longer mind a bit.

Life with non-special needs kids is constant triage too. Stop comparing yourself to everyone else. It's not fair to your son. Embrace who he is. Your posts are filled with "I ached to be that family" and observations of people with non special needs kids. You perceive that families with non-special needs kids to be a perfect existence. That's not the case.